


kitten

by silkscrub



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, bored quarantine stuff, half a joke, miles is four, you been knew but I'll say it again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23385949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkscrub/pseuds/silkscrub
Summary: What probably happens when Miles and Gwen hang out after Spider-Verse.
Relationships: Miles Morales/Gwen Stacy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	kitten

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, since I'm in quarantine there's no excuse for me not to write more so here's me trying!

"What are we doing? asks Gwen suspiciously, as Miles leads her into a tiny back alleyway. Miles stopped needing help on patrols forever ago, but the two of them flirted enough on his early missions to justify her continued presence on them. “I don't know your Brooklyn, but I'm pretty sure we've covered this neighborhood already." That, and her Spider-Sense is silent. 

Miles is occupied, looking around for something. Then he presses a finger to his lips, lowers himself into a crawl, reaching out into a dark spot behind a couple of empty cardboard boxes and overturned milk crates. 

A tiny, furry head peeks from the shadows. Its retinas are green and wide and glowing. 

"Oh my God." says Gwen, understandably.

Miles digs into his coat pocket and Gwen cannot believe her fucking eyes when he pulls out a miniature can of  _ Fancy Feast _ and cracks it open. He had a pocket for it and everything.

“What’s up, little man?” Miles whispers. “ ¿Está listo para la cena? 

The kitten looks between Miles and Gwen and the can, for a moment, hesitant. But it eventually steps forward into the light, apprehension outweighed by hunger. As it settles down comfortably around the can, Miles and Gwen sit by closely and admire it.

“Is this something you do often?” Gwen asks, really feeling the fifteen months of extra age and wisdom in front of him.

“Help those in need?” He teases.

“You’re Spider-Man, not Robin Hood,” she snorts. “Anyway, I’m not talking about fighting crime. I’m talking about feeding rabid animals.” 

“He’s clearly not rabid.” 

“Famous last words,” she sighs tragically, which melts into a giggle when he gives her a playful shove. 

The kitten laps up the rest of its meal, and leans into Miles’ hand, purring. 

“Well, I’m guess rolling the dice.” he reasons. Then, he gives a short whistle, and the kitten leaps affectionately onto his shoulders. “Guess what I named him.” he continues.

“Oh Go--What did you name him.”

Miles’ mouth opens to speak. But then, for just a split second, sheer terror comes over his face, and he stops himself. “Actually….let’s just give him a new name right now.”

“What?”

“Uh, yeah, let’s give it a new name right now. I was thinking Whiskers, or maybe Pablo or something-”

“What was the first name?” she asks, bewildered. 

“Eh, you wouldn’t like it. I didn’t really like it either, anyway, so let’s just find a better one.”

“Come on. Just tell me.” Did he name this thing Asscheeks or something? Her standards aren’t exactly sky high here.

“Ah, I really shouldn’t.“

"Why not?"

“I’m just trying to do the right thing, ‘cuz it was tacky, so...” he tries, feeble.

Gwen is by no means appeased. “Miles, what could you have possibly named this cat that is so bad that you can’t even repeat it?” she demands. The cat leaps off his shoulders, alarmed. 

Miles lowers his head.

“Peter Purrker.” he says quietly. 

There’s a short moment of silence, before Gwen snorts.

“Nice.”    
  
Miles is surprised. “You don’t think it’s tacky?...”

“Well, it’s not funny. But it’s smart. So I like it.“ she acknowledges. 

She smiles at him. He smiles back.

She shoots out a short string of webbing and dangles it above the kitten, who bats it, as if it were a piece of yarn. After a moment, Gwen hums thoughtfully. “Looks like Peter here is also a girl,” she observes.

“Heh, said my brain when I met you.” 

She stares at him. “Excuse me?” 

He backpedals hard. “No. I'm woke. Wait--”

Wistfully, Gwen webs Miles’ foot and then the fire escape, pulleying him upward so that he dangles upside-down, pathetic and lopsided, like a living windchime. His nose swings just inches from the dumpster. She calmly brushes off her hands after her diplomatic deed.

“I'm sorry,” Miles bemoans.

Gwen scoops up the feline in her arms. 

“I’m taking full custody.” She informs him. Then she marches away.

  
  



End file.
